


tea and a bath

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Bottom Sam, Bruises, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not really that much damage, nowhere near as bad as he’s had before, nowhere near his threshold. Not by a long shot. It’s enough to quicken his breath and his blood, sharpen his senses and narrow his focus. Cas knows the perfect edge to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tea and a bath

Long, deft fingers gently stroke through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead where it’s stuck to his skin with sweat.

Sam takes a deep breath in. Holds it. Blows it out through his lips.

They sting.

Still tingling and swollen, when he purses his lips, he twitches at the sharp burst of pain. Everything else is still out of focus. At a distance. He’s not entirely aware of the boundaries of his body. But there are fingers parting his hair and the tickle of his own breathe ghosting past a busted lip.

Cas is humming something, barely, kept under his breath. The song isn’t familiar to Sam, but it’s comforting. Head cradled on a warm thigh, Sam burrows further into the crease of Cas’ hip. Pulling one hand out from underneath his side, it flops uselessly for a moment until Sam gets the feeling back. Red rope lines snake over his wrist in deep gouged imprints, tingling like his lip as feeling comes back.

_The sound of the rope passing through itself is a whisper as Cas twists it around, pulls it tight, straightens it with a finger beneath as he pulls, loops, pulls. Sam’s arms are wound tighter behind his back until he’s tied up from wrist to elbow and his forearms are pressed together. Chest bowed out. Knees on the cold tile floor. Cock already at attention.  
_

A hand cradles the back of his skull. Sam sighs against damp skin. Shifts to stretch his legs out, wet seeping between his thighs, skin raw against the bed sheets rumpled beneath them. The bed squeaks and Cas hums his lilting tune as Sam takes a deep breath.

The lamp on the bedside table is still on. Yellow glow faint, casting shadows in the corners of Sam’s room. He can smell himself on Cas. Sweat and come drying on both their skins. Cas leaves it be now. It helps Sam remember, when he’s drifted off, who he’s with and where he is. Instead of being instantly cleaned and healed. That was a little disorienting the first few times Cas did it.

His jaw aches. His knees ache. His ass aches. His chest aches.

It feels wonderful.

Stretching his free arm over Cas’ lap, curling fingers around his hip and kissing the top of his thigh, Sam’s feet are dangling off the edge of the bed but he wouldn’t give up his position for anything. Cas is mostly upright against the headboard. Patiently waiting for Sam to come back. Lightly, fingertips trace down his neck and along the curve of his shoulder. They linger over tender bruises, the raw bit-open skin in places smarting fiercely as they’re passed over. Sam melts into the contact.

_Bent over him, still clothed, the tie gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, Cas yanks his head back roughly and bites his neck without any warning or warm up. Teeth sinking into skin and tearing, blood sudden and warm. Tongue tracing the line of his collarbone, mouth sucking bruises, teeth opening his body and he’s spilling out._

Sam rolls his shoulder, doesn’t mean to dislodge the wandering hand. Turning his face to the soft of Cas’ belly, he kisses.

“Touch me.”

“Of course.”

The wandering hand continues along his bloody shoulder. Sam registers that Cas’ other hand is resting on top of where he’s got a grip on Cas’ hip. The tentative contact of exploratory fingers counting the damage bruise by bruise has his body shuddering, over-sensitive, wrung out, skin aflame to the lightest contact.

“May I heal you?”

“Not yet.”

It’s not really that much damage, nowhere near as bad as he’s had before, nowhere near his threshold. Not by a long shot. It’s enough to quicken his breath and his blood, sharpen his senses and narrow his focus. Cas knows the perfect edge to play.

Sometimes, Sam’s not sure what Cas gets out of it. He doesn’t really feel like he’s worth much. That’s ok. He’s not really sure he’s the Winchester that Cas wants. But they’re still here and they keep coming back to this. Whatever it is.

_Pin-prick tingles spread under his skin, can’t breath, can’t get away, hands holding him firm and a cock choking off his air, spit wet down his chin dripping on his chest, tears welling and spilling down his cheeks, Sam can’t see when everything blurs at the edges like this. Arms numb, shoulders feeling like they’re going to pop out - maybe he could get out of the ropes if he dislocates - but just when he starts to see black spots his mouth is hanging open and empty, chest heaving, wracked with a cough. “So good for me Sam, you’re so good.”_

He’s kind of a mess. Should probably get up and start a shower. All he wants to do is curl in on himself and rest. Turn the light off and lay in the darkness for a while. Once he starts coming back to himself, pulse evening out, fingers and toes back to full sensation and mobility, Sam starts thinking. About a maybe-their-kind-of-thing case he’d just started reading up on when Cas dropped by. About all of Cas’ problems, only the tip of which he’d share with them. About all the books he still hasn’t catalogued in the bunker’s library.

The bed shifts and Cas eases Sam out of his lap. Yeah, it’s all right. They should get back to work.

“Why don’t you take a nap, Sam.”

“Hm?”

That wasn’t really what he was expecting. Blankets flutter lightly over his shoulders and settle, skin stinging, but it brings him back more into his body than his head. The light is flicked off. he understands that Cas is busy, he should get up himself, but if Cas wants to leave quietly without fuss that’s all right.

A kiss is pressed to his forehead.

_Lips on his forehead, thumb swiping the tears from his cheeks, Cas is murmuring something he can’t make out over the rush of his heartbeat in his ear and rasped panting. Strong hands pull him around, shove his chest down to the bed and pull his hips, the bruises and torn skin from neck to waist rubbed open again. The powerful blow that lands on his backside jolts him forward, arms helplessly tied behind him, face to the bed, it hurts and it hurts and it hurts until the sharp cramp of being fucked without prep turns into churning heat, spreads out from within to meet the heat working down into his skin from Cas’ hands on him. It wraps him up in blurry clash of sensation until everything melts together, washes over him, flows through him._

There’s a knock at the door. Sam wasn’t quite asleep, mostly floating. Somewhere else.

“Do you mind if I turn the light on?”

“No.”

Yawning, Sam shields his eyes from the light to find Cas in his black slacks but one of Sam’s gray t-shirts - too large on his frame, hanging off his shoulders, god the line of his neck - and he’s setting a steaming mug on the bedside table. Sam blinks. His thighs are tacky and he can feel the pull of dried blood crackling across his shoulder and chest.

Cas smiles at him, expression soft and unguarded.

“You can sleep more if you like, but you should have something to drink. I made tea.”

Sitting up, bedsheets slipping down, Sam doesn’t miss the path Cas’ eyes take down his chest, the flicker of concern there always is.

“I feel…. really good, Cas. Thanks.”

That’s mostly true. He feels a lot better than most of the time, just enough lingering pain to keep him distracted. Tea sounds pretty good too. Sam puts on a smile and reaches for the mug. The steam clears his nose, sweetly herbal.

“Do you want a bath? If you don’t want me to heal you, you should clean up.”

This is new. Hesitant. With more time, more privacy, more familiarity, Cas has been lingering. Sam does what he can to assuage any guilt, to reassure. The unsteadiness in the after remains. Sam is used to urgency. There was no time to dwell in self doubt and self hate before. Sam had thought for the most part that sort of thing was all on his end, and he could deal with it just fine himself. He’s not so sure anymore.

Now, Cas tucks him in to nap. Brings him tea. Wants to draw him a bath. Sam won’t let Cas heal him, wants the bruises to remind him in a week when his prayers go unanswered and they have no idea…….

He can take tea and a bath though.

“If you stay.”

Cas is hovering between the bed and the door as Sam sips his tea.

“Take a bath with me?”

The tub in the bunker is old and deep, but not big enough for two grown men. Nonetheless, Sam’d rather have Cas there too.

Hands held together, Sam watches Cas press them together and give a small nod, human gestures ever so slowly creeping up on him.

“I can do that.”

Tea half gone, the promise of hot water and gentle hands, indulgent kisses and unspoken understanding, it lures Sam to stand and stretch his cramped muscles. Pulling his jeans, still crumpled on the floor, up to his hips, he only cracks the door and peers down the hallway to look for Dean before darting to the bathroom shirtless and covered in sores. Cas is close on his heels.

Peeling the clothes off Cas and flattening a broad hand between his shoulders, Sam smooths his hand down the length of Cas’ back. The bathwater is loud, splashing in the tub as it fills, fogging the mirror with steam. There’s tension in the muscle beneath tan skin, back straight and eyes on the floor, Cas leaning ever so slowly into his space as Sam curls an arm around him. They have time for this.

The bath would do them both good.


End file.
